


Paint & Distractions

by bioticblackops



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Painting, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticblackops/pseuds/bioticblackops
Summary: Feyre tries to paint, Rhys tries to distract her.Pure post-ACOWAR fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a follow-up to "Sacrifices of War" which is ... basically the opposite of this. You don't need to read it but there's a reference in here that you would understand better if you do. Although it's clear enough that you might understand what the other fic is about ...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this. I'm not quite satisfied but I've fiddled with this for so long, I'm not sure if I'm making things better or worse ... So have a bit of pointless post-ACOWAR fluff.

If someone had ever told her the High Lord of the Night Court would be such a creature of the sun, she would have laughed. Now, instead of laughing, a small smile played over her lips as she watched her mate, night incarnated, stretching in a patch of sunshine like a content cat. For a day in late spring, it was unusually warm, the first real warm day of the year. Rhys had taken it as an excuse to get rid of his tunic as warm rays of the sun warmed his broad chest and lazily spread wings.

Feyre wasn't sure if this was for her benefit or if he got sidetracked in his quest to distract her from painting. He'd appeared not long after she'd set up her things to finish a piece she'd been working on over the last few days. It was a gift for Rhys so she kept it carefully angled away from him. She suspected that he appearing wherever she and that painting were had something to do with the fact that she refused to share it with him. It would've been easier to stay in her studio where she could at least lock him out and put up a ward so he couldn't winnow in either, but the day was much too nice for that. She was almost finished anyway. Besides, Rhys was so distracted with distracting her, the painting was all but forgotten.

As if he'd felt her thoughts, her High Lord arched his back from the chair and stretched his wings before sinking back into it with a loud sigh. A lazy smile was playing around his lips, daring her to come and kiss it away. Despite his closed eyes, he knew the effect he had on her well enough.

Feyre rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the palette in her hand. She weighed her options for the next bit, the crucial part that had her on edge ever since she'd decided for this particular painting. Picking the right color proved more difficult than she'd expected.

Another movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention, but she elected to ignore it. At this rate, she'd never get this done and she wanted to finish the painting today. Keeping it from him was getting increasingly harder. Which was probably one of the reasons why he'd decided to ignore his duties for the day to follow her to the rooftop instead. It would be annoying if seeing him so relaxed and happy didn't make her heart soar. 

Biting her lower lip, Feyre surveyed the canvas in front of her, the way the dark purples, blues, and blacks mixed together to create the living, breathing night sky she'd come to love so much. In front of it, in the same colors but different shades, a picture of Rhys was slowly but steadily taking form. He was a part of the night, his face half turned away and his wings wide spread and illuminated by starlight and the moon. Of all the drawings and paintings she'd created of him over the years, this was one of her favorites. But the painting wasn't of him alone and that small detail had her hesitate and stumble, mull over details much longer than she usually would. After a bit of consideration, she switched brushes, picking up a more delicate one. 

"I love when you are like this," Rhys commented, breaking her concentration again.

"Annoyed?" Feyre asked sweetly but without any real heat behind her words. She could feel Rhys amusement tickle along the bond. There was a soft edge to it, like a cat rubbing against her legs.

"Focused," he said. "You get that cute wrinkle between your eyes when you concentrate on a painting. But only when you are trying to figure something out. It's endearing."

"Is that why you've been following me around like a lost puppy, High Lord? Not to annoy me but to stare at my 'endearing wrinkle'?"

"Do I need a reason to want to be around my mate, High Lady?"

Feyre's lips twitched. Despite hearing the title way too often for her own liking, it still felt different when Rhys used it. With him, it was a pet name, something intimate, and not a title and weapon to wield.

"Don't you have something to do?"

"Of course. But it can wait. Today is much too lovely to spend it below a mountain dealing with grumpy nobles. Or in the steppes dealing with annoyed Illyrians trying to convince me that our dear Nesta is ill-equipped training them despite it being very clear they're just afraid of her."

Feyre's lips quaked, remembering the last time they'd visited one of the Illyrian camps in which Nesta now trained females alongside Cassian. Even ignoring the fact that she was the High Lady's sister and their commander's wife and mate, Nesta was terrifying in her own right to everybody who was stupid enough to stand in her way. Many had made that mistake during the war and the stories about the aftermath were still whispered among the Illyrians. Quiet enough that she wouldn't hear it, of course.

"I haven't seen her in ages. We should invite her and Cassian for dinner sometime. They've been in the steppes for weeks. I'm sure the Illyrians could deal with a bit of a break," Feyre said, aiming for a casual tone. She could see Rhys' eyebrows raise in the corner of her eye despite trying not to.

"Elain and Lucien, too. Last time we saw them was during Winter Solstice."

"Is there a reason for a family gathering, Feyre darling?" Rhys drawled. She could feel his eyes fixated on her, trying to figure her out.

"Do I need a reason to want to see my sisters?"

"Usually? Yes."

Feyre huffed but paid him no mind, putting her brush to the canvas instead for the last few strokes. After a few more minutes, she stepped back to survey her work. This time she didn't try to shield it from his view when Rhys appeared next to her, finally stealing a glimpse of whatever she'd been keeping from him.

His body was radiating heat next to hers, warming her even more than the spring sun did. It felt odd, him seeing that painting of the night sky in the middle of the day in brilliant sunshine. She'd planned on showing him tonight, after dinner, when the paint had a chance to dry and her nerves had a chance to settle. It seemed, she didn't get either. But maybe that was for the best. At least this way she couldn't fret over what was about to happen. 

Feyre tried to hide the fluttering in her chest as she could feel Rhys' confusion tickle along the bond. Suddenly his breath hitched and he went very, very still beside her. For the first time, Feyre dared to look away from the painting to glance at her mate.

Rhys' eyes were big and glued to the canvas, taking in every small detail while trying to make sense of it. Feyre let her own wander over his features as he took in the many shades of the night sky, speckled with a myriad of stars she had painted. His eyes were wandering over the picture of himself hanging mid-air, almost swallowed by darkness if not for the stars and the moon illuminating his silhouette. His as well as that of the small bundle he was holding over his head, almost as if he'd toss it into the night sky any moment. Despite the darkness, the pure joy on painted Rhys' face was clearly visible as he played with the toddler in his care who was shrieking with the same kind of delight, tiny wings spread wide while equally tiny hands held on to Rhys' face.

For once, her mate didn't say anything. He merely stared at the painting in front of him as he tried to understand what he was looking at. Feyre bit her lip as she saw the confusion drain away, making room for understanding and awe. Until his head whipped around and his violet gaze found hers, she wouldn't have thought it possible for her heart to beat even harder. Hope was written all over his elegant features, even as he tried to push it down, tried not to make their bond vibrate with it although it was too late for that. The knot in Feyre's belly loosened as a smile she couldn't bite back anymore crept onto her face. Rhys' eyes widened even further, flickering down towards her belly and back to his mate's face, still waiting for her to say something.

"The wings are a guess," Feyre said, her voice wavering a bit as she gestured to the painting. "But since it's your child, I guess the chances are pretty b-"

She didn't get any further as a pair of lips found her own, stealing words and thoughts alike as the hope vibrating along the bond was replaced with knee-wobbling happiness. Laughter bubbled up inside of her she pressed her hands against her mate's cheeks, holding him in place for her to kiss him. It took him longer than she'd expected to lean back enough that he could finally, finally say something.

"Truly?"

"Yes, Rhys. Truly."

"And this time, nobody can take it away from us," he whispered, almost breaking her heart with the softness of his voice. She placed another gentle kiss on his lips to banish the dark thoughts and memories trying to creep up on him, reminding him of a different time when the same news had been anything but joyful. When they'd threatened to shatter them both. 

"No. This is ours. And if they try ..."

"Well, I guess Azriel has been a bit bored lately."

Feyre snorted. "Don't let Mor hear that."

"I was just speaking about the lack of enemies to spy on."

"Sure you did, High Lord."

"Wicked, beautiful creature." He smiled. "Mother of my child."

"Hm, that's a title I don't mind adding to my collection."

"That's good. It might have been awkward for our child to call you High Lady."

Feyre rolled her eyes, the smile still on her lips. 

"So, about that dinner ..."

"You don't really expect me to share you with anyone anytime soon, do you?"

"Well, you'll have to."

"Precisely. Which is why I need to make the most of the time we've left when it's just the two of us."

Rhys soft smile had turned into a wicked smirk full of promises. 

"Your excuses to get me out of my clothing get more far-fetched by the day."

"Since when do I need excuses, Feyre darling?"

"After all these years and you are still a shameless flirt."

"When it comes to you, always. Do I still make it up by being 'one hell of a High Lord'?"

For a moment, Feyre considered answering the same way she had all those years ago: By tossing water all over him. Instead, she poked him in the ribs, making him wiggle a bit.

"Luckily for you, you do."

"Well, then I'll take the liberty to keep flirting away."

"Or you can make good on your words, get me out of my clothes, and show me what exactly 'making the most of the time we've left when it's just the two of us. ' entails."

Fortunately, that was something the High Lord of the Night Court didn't have to be told twice.


End file.
